Kona Winds

by Janet Dailey

  "Are those names of towns?" She pointed to a sign.

  "Waipahu and Waianae—yes, they are." Emily Harmon pronounced them effortlessly.

  "I'll never be able to pronounce them," Julie laughed a trifle self-consciously.

  "It can be a bit confusing at first. The Hawaiian language only consists of seven consonants—w, p, h, l, k, m, and n—and the five vowels. With only twelve letters, we make use of them all. I believe we have a beginner's Hawaiian grammar book in our library. Remind me to give it to you."

  "I'm sure I'll need it," Julie sighed.

  Within minutes after the car had climbed away from the coast onto a broad, flat plateau flanked by two mountain ranges they became encased in darkness. The headlights illuminated little of the open country on either side of the road. The freeway system ended at the town of Wahiawa.

  As they drove past a U.S. Army base, Emily Harmon identified it. "That's Schofield Barracks. When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, they made their first strike here, bombing and strafing the base."

  "I didn't realize it was so far inland," commented Julie.

  "Most people don't. They think it was somehow adjacent to the naval base at Pearl Harbor, which, of course, it isn't." As they passed the last entrance gate to the base, the car was again in darkness, the lights of the town left behind.

  "As I mentioned to your Mrs. Grayson," Emily Harmon continued, "your evenings and your weekends are your free time. You're a young and an attractive woman and it's only natural that while you're here, you're going to seek some male company. I wouldn't presume to dictate what you should do or whom you should see on your free time. However, I feel obligated to issue a word of caution. We have a lot of military personnel stationed on this island, plus many surfers on the north shore. Most of these young men are interested in only one thing from girls, and that's sex."

  Julie was surprised by the bluntness of the statement. For all her prim and starched appearance, Emily Harmon said what she meant. Julie smiled, knowing she was going to like this woman.

  "That's what most of the young men back in the States are interested in, too," she offered dryly.

  "The mainland—always refer to the other forty-nine States as the mainland. Hawaii is in the United States. We kamaainas are a bit touchy about that. So, if you don't want to offend us, use the term mainland," Emily Harmon instructed.

  "A kamaaina is a native or an old-timer," Dan explained.

  "You watch the road, and slow down!" The order was issued sharply to the driver. More calmly, she turned to Julie, her tone becoming once more quiet and reasonable. "Now, as I was saying, I wouldn't presume to dictate to you, but I think it would be wise to screen your choice of escorts to try and save yourself any hurt or embarrassment."

  "I do appreciate your word of caution, and I'll keep it in mind," Julie promised. She found her employer's concern to be slightly touching. She suspected that it had to be genuine since she didn't see how any indiscretion on her part could cast a bad light on Miss Harmon's good name.

  Conversation lapsed for the rest of the drive. Julie felt the accumulated tiredness of the last two days drowning her. She fought to stay awake and not become mesmerized by the inky black world outside the windows of the luxury car. The car passed through another small community and paralleled the shoreline of the ocean for a while. A couple of times, Julie glimpsed the almost iridescent white of the swelling ocean waves rushing to shore. Finally Dan took a turn onto a side road, taking the Mercedes up a switchback onto a tree-lined lane.

  "Here we are," Emily Harmon declared unnecessarily when Dan stopped in the circular drive.

  Lights gleamed a welcome from the windows. I was too dark for Julie to see many details of the outside of the house. Trees seemed to hover about it to keep it hidden and secluded. It was white and two story, and gave the impression of being large. Dan was there to open the door and assist her out of the car. Then he performed the same service for his employer.

  The front door of the house was opened before Julie and Emily Harmon had climbed the short flight of steps to the wide veranda. Again Julie found herself looking into a friendly Hawaiian face, only this time it belonged to a female in her forties, still trim and attractive.

  "Julie, this is Malia. She takes care of us," Emily Harmon introduced. "Malia, this is Julie Lancaster.''

  "Aloha," the woman smiled.

  "Aloha." Julie found it amazingly natural to return the same greeting.

  The white walls of the interior added to the feeling of spaciousness. The large entryway was furnished with white wicker furniture covered with bright green cushions to continue the tropical theme of the numerous potted and hanging plants that adorned the large room. The atmosphere suggested that the rest of the house was equally spacious and casually elegant, but, more important, warm and inviting. At the far end of the room, a staircase of a light polished wood climbed in a series of three tiers to the second floor.

  "I've fixed a light snack, if you would like?" the woman named Malia offered.

  "No, thank you," Julie refused. "I had more than enough to eat on the plane."

  "I think Julie would like to be shown to her room," stated Emily Harmon. "After traveling all day, I'm sure she would prefer to bathe and have an early night."

  "I would, yes," Julie admitted.

  "I generally have breakfast at nine o'clock on the lanai. If you're awake at that time, perhaps you would like to join me," her employer invited.

  "I would like to, thank you."

  "I'll show you to your room," said Malia in her soft, melodic voice. "Dan will bring your luggage up shortly."

  "Good night, Julie," Emily Harmon wished her.

  "Good night," she returned. "I'll see you in the morning."

  "Sleep as late as you wish," the older woman insisted, and moved away to an open archway.

  Julie followed Malia up the staircase, silently admiring the innate grace of the woman's carriage. At the head of the stairs, the woman turned to the right down a windowed hallway. At the second door she stopped and opened it. Walking into the room, she turned on a switch to flood the room with light, and Julie entered to find a room with the same white walls that predominated in the house.

  This one was offset by a bold and attractive combination of coral and sunny yellow. The unusual color combination was in the quilted spread on the bed and repeated in the full-length curtains and the area rug on the floor. Besides the bed, dresser, and a chest of drawers, there was a writing desk and chair, and a small divan, its thick plush cushions covered in a shiny print that incorporated the two colors with a dark green.

  "It's a beautiful room," Julie declared.

  "Your private bath is through this door." Malia showed her, then walked to the curtains, pulling them apart to expose latticed, French doors, paneled with sheers. With a flick of a wrist she opened them and stepped aside as Julie came forward.

  As she stepped into the warm night air, Julie saw that the balcony ran the full length of the house, the roof reaching out to shelter it. It overlooked a swimming pool, its shape barely discernible in the flickering light of two flame torches. Beyond were shrubbery and more trees.

  "My very own balcony!" It seemed like a dream. It lacked only a moon and a canopy of stars.

  Julie turned to share the delight she felt with Malia, but Dan had entered the bedroom with her luggage, and Malia was telling him where to set it. Julie put aside her pleasure for the business at hand and returned to the bedroom closing the doors.

  "Aloha ahiahi," Dan smiled to Julie as he withdrew from the room.

  Uncertain how to respond to that, Julie simply nodded and smiled. When the door closed, she turned to Malia, unable to keep the puzzled look out of her pale brown eyes. One comer of her mouth lifted in a confused smile.

  "What did he say?"

  "It means 'good evening,'" Malia explained with a beaming and understanding smile. "Now you just show me which of these bags has your night things and I'll unpack it for you w
hile you bathe."

  "No, you don't need to do that," Julie refused. "I can take care of it."

  "Of course you can, but I'm going to. Now you tell me which one and go relax in the tub."

  "No, please, I can't let you. Besides, maybe Miss Harmon will want you for something," Julie argued.

  "No, Miss Emily knows there's a cold tray of food on the table and her tea is hot on the warmer." Sparkling black eyes surveyed Julie. "Now, you're tired—you've got circles under your eyes. You go take that bath and tell me which of these suitcases has your night things, otherwise I'll open every one of them."

  Julie knew when she had been defeated by a superior force and pointed to the small weekend case. "But you leave the rest of the unpacking to me. I work here, too, Malia." A thought occurred to her. "I should have met Deborah tonight, but I was so tired that I never thought about it."

  "Debbie will understand. She's a good girl."

  Running a hand over the carved headboard of the bed, Julie began wandering about her private student. Was she spoiled? Willful? Filled with self-pity? Wouldn't it be awful if she were chained to a know-it-all little bitch for five months or more?

  "What's she like, Malia?" She studied the woman's face as she answered.

  "She's a wonderful girl—happy, generous. She loves everybody!" The light that had been shining in her expression faded as Malia sighed and lifted the suitcase onto the beck "That's why it hurts so to see her lying in that bed."

  "She was in a car accident," Julie prompted.

  "Yes. Debbie and some of her friends went to a rock concert in Honolulu. They were on their way home when some car tried to pass another car on a curve. They nearly crashed head-on, but the boy who was driving swerved into a ditch."

  "Were any of the others in the car hurt?"

  "One had a broken leg and another a broken arm. Otherwise, it was just cuts and bruises. Debbie was the one who was the most seriously hurt. Luckily all the doctors have said there isn't any permanent damage. It's just going to take a long time for her to heal and—" Malia glanced up just as Julie yawned. She hadn't meant to be rude, but she was so tired she couldn't help it. "Go take your bath before you fall asleep leaning against the bed."

  "I guess you're right," Julie conceded. As she straightened from the bed, the lei around her neck brushed her chin. "What about my lei? Do you suppose it will keep?"

  "Ginger? No, they're very short-lived." Malia shook her head slightly.

  "Oh, well," Julie sighed in resignation and took the lei from around her neck to drape it over the bedpost.

  A half an hour later, when she slipped beneath the covers, bathed, refreshed, and tired, the spicy fragrance of the blossoms scented the air she breathed. As she closed her eyes, she decided it was an excellent way to go to sleep on her first night in Hawaii.

  Chapter Three

  JULIE AWOKE EARLY the next morning. Of course, by Boston time, it was late. She shrugged away the time zone difference and fluffed her long hair one last time with the brush. The radio clock on the dresser indicated 8:35. Her employer had said to join her for breakfast at nine on the lanai.

  Smiling at her reflection, she murmured, "But I forgot to ask what or where is a lanai"

  With a characteristic shrug, she walked out of the door into the hallway. There was bound to be someone around the house who could point her in the right direction. If not, she'd find it somehow.

  Rain beat against the windowpanes in the corridor. Hawaii was anything but sunny today, she observed. She peered out one of the windows, but could see little but the sheets of rain. She decided that she much preferred it to snow and sleet.

  Her shoes made little sound on the stairs, their rubber soles treading quietly on the steps. With two tiers behind her, she turned down the last one. At the sound of male voices approaching the large entryway at the base of the stairs, her foot hovered on the next step. She glanced up as two men entered the area from another part of the house. One of the men was tall, towering over the second shorter and broader man. It was the tall one that caught Julie's interest.

  His hair had the color and sheen of rich mahogany, growing thickly to his collar. The white material of his shirt was stretched across the set of his broad shoulders, then tapered to the trim waistband of his dark trousers. He looked remarkably fit—in excellent physical condition.

  The shorter of the two men spoke. "Ain't no work to do on a day like dis. Dem Kona winds are bad," he said in an enchanting kind of local Pidgin English.

  "Yes, I know, Al. Those Kona winds never bring anything good." As if sensing a third party was listening to the conversation, the tall man made a leisurely turn and looked directly at Julie.

  Even though she had been caught accidentally eavesdropping, there wasn't a shy self-conscious bone in her body. Since her presence had been noticed, she continued her descent of the steps. The white of her slacks gave her a long and leggy look. Her lemon-yellow pullover top had three white bands at the waistline, which completed the outfit.

  "Maybe dem Kona winds will blow all away by tomorrow," the shorter man commented.

  "Maybe. I hope so, Al." His gaze never left Julie.

  "I'll be goin' now. See ya tomorrow."

  "Right."

  Now that the man faced her, Julie could see his masculine features were hard and vital, browned by long hours of exposure to a tropical sun. A pair of arresting blue eyes were making a cool and thorough appraisal of her. The line of his mouth held no gentleness but contained an abundance of cynicism. It didn't curve into a smile as she approached.

  "You are Julie Lancaster," he identified her without hesitation.

  But it was only logical, she decided. After all, she was the one who was the stranger in his house. Immediately, she wondered why she had reached the conclusion that he lived there. Was it his superior attitude?

  Taking his lead of not issuing a formal greeting, she replied, "Yes, that's right. I'm afraid you have the advantage. You know who I am, but I don't know who you are." She softened the challenge with a smile.

  "I'm Ruel Chandler."

  The unusual name clicked in her memory. Emily Harmon had mentioned it yesterday at the airport. Despite his lack of friendliness, this Ruel Chandler intrigued her. The fascination she felt must have registered in her look, because she noticed the shrewd and knowing gleam that glinted in his eyes.

  "I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Chandler." Her head bobbed in a demure nod. She wondered what his position was in the house. "You are. . . ." She hesitated deliberately so he would fill in the blank.

  "I'm Debbie's brother," he stated, vague amusement in his voice.

  Julie didn't have to feign surprise. "Oh. I didn't know Debbie had a brother. Her name is Chandler?''

  "Yes."

  "Then Emily Harmon is—"

  "My mother's sister."

  "I had it all mixed-up. I never bothered to ask. I simply presumed that Debbie's last name was the same as your aunt's. I should have asked."

  "It doesn't matter." Not a single expression seemed to crack the hard set of his features, but Julie thought she detected a note of boredom.

  In another minute he might walk away and she would still be lost. "Perhaps you could help me. I have a small problem," she said.

  "What is it?" He tipped his head to the side, vaguely indifferent.

  "Your aunt asked me to join her for breakfast this morning on the lanai. My problem is I don't know where or what a lanai is." Julie smiled at her own ignorance.

  "It's a porch or a balcony. Emily usually has her breakfast on the lanai on the ground floor," he explained with seeming patience. A hand gestured toward the rain darkening the windows. "But, as you can see, it really isn't the kind of weather to be eating outdoors today. Breakfast will be served in the dining room. It's right through that archway." He pointed in the direction from which he had just come. "You can't miss it."

  "Thank you." Her gratitude was met by a dismissing nod before he moved off in another direction. She wat
ched him for a couple of seconds, then walked through the archway he had indicated. A living room led into a dining room where Emily Harmon was seated.

  "Ah, Julie." She glanced up. "Did you have a good night's rest?"

  "Yes, I did, thank you."

  "Sit wherever you like," Emily instructed. "What will you have? Juice? Fresh fruit? Pineapple? Papaya? Malia will fix you some eggs."

  "Ill just have some fruit and toast. I've never been able to eat a large breakfast," Julie took the chair at the table opposite from her employer.

  "Pineapple or papaya?" Malia inquired.

  "I believe I'll try some papaya."

  As Malia disappeared through a door, Emily offered, "Coffee?"

  "Yes, please, black." Julie noticed a place setting at the head of the table. It hadn't been used. She supposed it was for Ruel Chandler.

  Malia returned carrying haft of a papaya in a bowl, a green tinge to its ripely yellow skin. It was a melonlike fruit of a rich orange color. A lemon wedge was in its hollowed-out center.

  "Squeeze the juice over the fruit," Emily Harmon instructed. "It tones down the sweetness and gives it a tangy flavor."

  After following the suggestion, Julie scooped out a spoonful of the fruit. It was delicious, tangy but sweet. Emily was waiting for her opinion.

  "It's very good," Julie assured her.

  "Malia, why don't you go see if Ruel is going to join us this morning? I'm not even sure if he's up yet. I know it was very late when he came in last night," her employer stated.

  "He's up." Julie offered the information, and was immediately the recipient of Emily's questioning gaze. "I met him in the entryway just before I came in. He was talking to someone named Al."

  "You met him, then?" It wasn't exactly a question.

  "Yes, he introduced himself." Julie laughed shortly. "I wasn't aware that Debbie had a brother until he told me."

  "Never mind going after him, Malia. If he's going to join us, he'll be along. He probably went to see Deborah," Emily decided.

  "Very well." Malia glanced at Julie. "I'll bring you some toast."